


Belly Rubs and Happy Reactions

by nightlight9



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Fluff, M/M, SO FLUFFY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightlight9/pseuds/nightlight9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles figures out Derek's weakness for having his belly rubbed, and takes advantage of the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belly Rubs and Happy Reactions

**Author's Note:**

> So I found a video of a wolf that loved belly rubs, and I couldn’t resist. It was just too perfect.
> 
> The video was put up by The Nordic Sisterhood on Facebook, and the link is here: https://www.facebook.com/nordicsis/videos/1106351189377284/

The first time it happens, Stiles doesn’t even recognize the reaction. He’s researching the latest threat to Beacon Hills, a group of gnomes with terrible tempers. Derek is pressed close to his side so he can read from the screen too. A few years ago, Stiles would have been bothered by the lack of personal space, or intimidated because the werewolf was so close, but now it’s too normal to be bothersome. 

“This isn’t helpful at all,” Derek growls, a puff of warm air against Stiles’ cheek. It makes him shiver.

He shrugs to cover it up. “We’ve just started looking, Derek. We’ll find out how to get rid of them, okay.”

Derek huffs, leaning back in his chair and giving Stiles some space. “We better. Isaac can’t even leave the loft without them throwing rocks at him and screaming.”

The image makes Stiles laugh. “Seriously though, I don’t know what Isaac did to piss off a bunch of gnomes. Poor pup.” He only pities the sarcastic werewolf a little. Not enough not to see how hilarious the situation is.

At his comment, he can almost feel Derek’s scowl. “Just keep looking. Their screeching is annoying. And Isaac can’t miss any more school. I don’t need another call from the office this week, checking up to see how he’s feeling.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and reaches across Derek’s body for the soda perched at the end of the desk. His knuckles brush up against his companion’s stomach. Derek freezes at the touch, and keeps his eyes wide so they don’t droop. Stiles is too busy scrolling through an article to notice. By the time he finds out how to get rid of the gnomes, Derek’s relaxed again. 

\----------

The second time it happens Stiles has just removed an arrow from Derek’s shoulder and is too busy trying to calm himself down to recognize what’s going on. Leave it to Derek to get shot, not by werewolf hunters, but by actual hunters. Honestly, if Stiles wasn’t freaked out by the whole thing, he would make a joke about Derek losing his touch. 

Instead, all he can do is yell at him. “Seriously, how the hell did you let that happen? Where’s the awareness? You’re always telling the betas to be careful when they’re running around like animals. But then you go and get yourself shot.” Stiles bunches up the fabric of Derek’s shirt so he has something to hold onto, so he doesn’t do something stupid like smack Derek in the face. As he gets his grip, the backs of his hands ghost against Derek’s abs. Derek gasps at the contact, his muscles clenching, and Stiles stops.

“Dude, I’m sorry, you’re probably in pain right.” He lets go of the shirt, and Derek relaxes back. “But seriously, you’re an idiot. Shot by actual hunters. What the hell.”

\----------

It’s the third time when Stiles notices, the third time that has him stopping, evaluating, running his fingers over Derek’s belly again. 

It’s pack night. Derek is in charge of making dinner, but Stiles is in the kitchen with him anyway because he doesn’t want to be the only person in the living room without a partner. As much as he loves the pack, he can’t deal with all the making out and googly eyes. Dinner consists of spaghetti with homemade sauce and meatballs, a Hale family recipe, and Stiles is honored to help out. 

He’s reaching past Derek to get a spoon when he just barely grazes the back of his hand across Derek’s stomach. He can’t help but notice how the werewolf’s story comes to a jolting halt, can’t avoid seeing how he tenses up. Instead of asking if he’s alright, or worrying that he did something wrong, Stiles freezes too. For a drawn out moment, neither of them move or say anything. Then, very deliberately, Stiles pulls his hand back. Derek’s muscles spasm at the contact. He looks at Stiles with wide, pleading eyes, and Stiles turns back to the pasta without a word. But a plan is forming away in his head, and he has to hide a smile.

\----------

For days after the pack dinner, Derek is on edge. He won’t let himself relax around Stiles, won’t let himself get too close. It makes his wolf restless, the paranoia, but he won’t risk letting his guard down so Stiles can get close. He keeps his hands crossed over his stomach any time Stiles is around, and the sight makes Stiles cackle to himself, but he keeps quiet and waits for an opportunity. 

No one can say that Stiles isn’t patient. He waits over month before making a move, so long that Derek has forgotten to be worried.

Stiles is at the loft. He spends a lot of his time there now, hanging around with Derek, sharing scars and stories and memories and thoughts. He hangs around there so much that his dad never calls Scott first anymore to figure out where his son is, so much that John sat him down one night to ask if Derek was “someone special.” Stiles had replied, “yes” even though nothing had happened between them yet. Because Derek was someone special. Stiles was just waiting for the right moment to make a move.

It happens when Derek is sharing one of his favorite memories of his grandmother, sprawled across the couch laughing at the memory, and his shirt rolls up. The sight of the thin strip of exposed skin is all it takes for Stiles to launch himself across the coffee table, and rub gently at Derek’s stomach.

“Stiles.” His name is a whine in Derek’s mouth. The werewolf reaches out to push him away. But then his hands drop to his sides, his eyes droop, and he whines again. The noise almost sounds like a…

“Are you purring?” Stiles laughs at the half-hearted glare he gets in return and continues to rub the werewolf’s belly. Watching Derek relax back into the couch makes Stiles want to coo. Instead he does something crazier. He closes his eyes, leans down and kisses the tip of Derek’s nose. When Derek tenses under him, Stiles holds his breath. Soft lips brush against his. When Stiles opens his eyes, Derek is watching him with a soft smile. He pulls Stiles in between his body and the couch, and makes a pleased hum when Stiles starts rubbing his belly again. 

They lay like that, pressed together in a comfortable silence, for a long time. Then Stiles breaks it with a laugh. “I can’t believe you like your belly rubbed!”

Derek groans and mutters something under his breath that Stiles doesn’t understand.

“Come again?”

“It’s a wolf thing.” The tips of his ears turn pink at the confession. Instead of laughing again or pointing out that he did hours of research to find out that it was indeed a wolf thing, and instead of saying something snarky, Stiles stretches up and kisses his cheek. 

“Well I think it’s cute.”

He doesn’t believe the complaint Derek makes at the use of the word ‘cute.’ The purring gives his pleasure away.


End file.
